


2 - Harry (Hover Over Me)

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Series: What A Wasters - 1D Wanklets [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bathtub wanking, Fantasizing, Fingering, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's limited time and space in the X-Factor House for a wank, so Harry always tries to make the most of his time in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 - Harry (Hover Over Me)

Harry watches Louis all the time.

He knows it’s probably a bit creepy, but ever since they first met it’s like he’s drawn to the other boy, like his mind’s been rewired to remember every little detail about Louis; calibrated to always know where he is in a room, even when there’s a crowd separating them.

Liam knows about it, because he’d come up to Harry during their second week in the Judge’s Houses and asked him, “Do you like Lou?”

Harry hadn’t been sure up to that moment, to be honest, but he’d felt himself go bright red and that was plenty of confirmation.

 He’s not sure if Lou knows, but their eyes meet far too often to be normal and their touches linger too long and Harry’s fallen asleep in Louis’ bed by accident but Louis didn’t even try to kick him out—Harry’d woken up with Louis’ arm wrapped around his waist the next morning (and a stiffy, which had been more than a little awkward, especially when Louis grumbled and shifted in his sleep, brushing his hand against Harry and almost making him come in his pants).

His crush does mean he needs frequent off-time.

All of them use the bathroom for it, the only place that they actually _have_ privacy in the x-factor house.

And Harry, even though it makes him feel a little embarrassed, waits for Louis to come out of the bathroom so he can have his own turn. It’s a little planned, he’d had to beg Zayn to switch their bath times, but even the idea of the tub still being wet with the water Louis bathed in has his dick twitch in his pants.

It is another five minutes before Louis does, smiling lazily and his eyes half-lid, as they seek out Harry’s.

“Your turn, pumpkin,” he says, slower than usual, a little rough around the edges.

Normally, when they don’t take turns back-to-back, Louis’d be cuddling up with Harry right now. Now he just pulls Harry close for a moment, lips brushing to Harry’s ear—something he’s started to do just this week, and it’s more and more difficult for Harry to remember that Louis is still dating someone else—and says “Have fun, yeah?”

His pruny fingers push something in Harry’s hands, and then he stalks off, most likely to the kitchen where the other boys are.

He looks down and finds a small bottle of lube, his cheeks heating up all over again. Harry hurries into the bathroom with his clothes, stripping quickly and standing in front of the bath for a moment, before he remembers that he’s supposed to fill it with water first.

There weren’t any suds left so he supposes Louis must have cleaned it out, and that makes him blush all over again. The bottle of lube feels like it’s burning in his hand. He doesn’t use lube normally, enjoys the dry tug of his foreskin over the tip and wonders why he’s never seen Louis with it before—

God. It might mean Louis didn’t just _wank_. Harry’s dick twitches again, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly before he gets his bathing oil and throws it into the tub.

Then he steps into the tub, slowly sinking into the water, spreading his legs a little as he revels in the feeling. His back’s been playing up a little, and the warm water sooths it right away as he relaxes back, the tap still on and continuing to fill the tub.

Harry’d be surprised if he can last long enough for the water to reach his chest, though.

His erection breaks the water surface, and his entire body is thrumming with _need_ , especially now that he’s got Louis on his mind.

He wraps his hand around the base, keeping it there as he pushes his other hand against his balls.

Harry wonders how Louis did it. Lube and water doesn’t seem like a good idea so maybe he lay down in the empty tub. Maybe he was lying on the mat in front of the bath.

 _God_ , Harry shivers as he realizes that it’s more likely Louis was in the bath—he’d heard the tap run almost as soon as Louis went in—might’ve been on his knees in the tub.

He starts to move his hand, slowly, pulling the foreskin back before pushing it over the head again. There’s precome already at the tip, and he’s aching, his balls drawn tight with the need to come.

 _Louis_. Louis _fingering_ himself. Harry wonders how often he does it.

Louis likes his stuff plentiful. Likes loads of everything, Harry knows it. He likes long showers and longer baths and he likes a lot of food and a lot of sleep and a lot of mischief.

There’s no way he’d stick up just one finger.

Harry gasps as he has to squeeze his fingers tight around his base, nearing the edge a little too quickly. He pulls at his balls, trying to will the tightness away a little, brushing one of his fingers against his own bumhole.

It’s not bad, he knows. He’s had one finger up there before, with a bit of soap, and it hadn’t felt bad—he just hadn’t felt the need to put more in.

But Louis would, Harry just _knows_ it. Louis would spread his knees and leaned against the wall with one hand, pushing the other between his legs and wriggling two fingers in at once because he’s not just greedy but impatient as well.

Maybe it hurt. Maybe Louis likes a bit of pain—Harry knows he does, even now, digging his knees into the cool porcelain of the tub until his muscles are trembling, making it more difficult to come, and until his skin is red and on the border of bruising. Maybe Louis would let Harry bruise him, fingers on his hips.

Louis’ hole would be so tight around his own fingers, Harry knows because he can’t have been doing it much, told everyone he’d never stuck a finger up his ass when they were at Harry’s dad’s bungalow and there’s no reason Louis would’ve lied to them back then.

He probably rocked back against his fingers—that might’ve been the squeaking noise Harry’d heard when he walked past the bathroom to go to the loo.

Harry’s muscles are tightening again and he knows there’s not a chance he’s going to be able to postpone this any longer, instead grabbing himself firmly and stroking quickly while he imagines Louis coming untouched, from only his own fingers up his bum—and then Harry imagines what it would be like if Louis let Harry finger him and he’s coming, hips pushing up and sloshing the water around as he shoots up over his stomach, thin and runny and plentiful.

He strokes himself through it, pushing out the last drops even as he shivers from the excess stimulation.

Finally he turns off the tap, soaking in the hot water for another ten or fifteen minutes before he gets up and shampoos his hair, rinsing off the dirty tub water.

When he finally comes out of the room another ten minutes later, he finds Louis waiting for him outside of the door.

“Here,” he says, handing back the lube.

“You didn’t use it,” Louis raises his eyebrow and Harry shrugs.

“Didn’t really need to ‘cause I knew you did,” he says, deciding to be bold for once. They’ve been tip-toeing around this _thing_ for months now and it seems stupid to keep denying it.

Louis smirks at him at that, even though Harry can see the faint blush tingeing his cheeks. That’s okay though, it looks cute on him.

“Yeah, liked that idea?” he asks Harry, and Harry nods.

“Sure,” he says. “Pretty boy, all on his own,” he says and then Louis’ hand is on his arm.

“Maybe not on my own next time, yeah?” Louis says quickly, looking around for a moment before he presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Just so you know, Hannah and I broke up yesterday.”

Then he walks away again, and Liam comes out of their bedroom, snickering.

“He doesn’t seem too heartbroken about Hannah, does he?” Harry smirks at him.

“Nah man, good luck with that,” Liam says, bumping his hip against Harry’s before he disappears into the bathroom, the door locking with a click.


End file.
